


Soldier

by pinkbubblesgo



Series: Jukebox Stories [9]
Category: Original Work
Genre: 2010s, Autism Spectrum, Based on a Backstreet Boys song, F/M, Gen, Inspired by Music, Married Couple, Song Lyrics, past bullying
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-25
Updated: 2020-05-25
Packaged: 2021-03-03 04:47:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,920
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24378946
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pinkbubblesgo/pseuds/pinkbubblesgo
Summary: A little story based on a Backstreet Boys song.
Series: Jukebox Stories [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/547435
Kudos: 2





	Soldier

**Author's Note:**

> For me it's really weird to think that _In a World Like This_ came out seven years ago. I never quite grew out of it, specially considering how much I hate _DNA_ , so it hasn't been that long in my head. 
> 
> As I was writing this story, I found out how that whole album, its themes etc etc, really resonate with these characters. In that sense, I was tempted to change the theme song a few times, but I hope to have made the right decision staying with "Soldier."
> 
> Enjoy!

The blue pickup parked at the high school's parking lot, in a slot far away from the actual entrance. 

Inside it, Millie shook and panted for air with her knees bent up to her neck, clinging so hard to them that she was actually hurting herself. She felt she was being dragged to the past against her will, no matter how hard she tried to stay in the present, the happy present, and now she could watch her own feet walking into class, feel the smell of desks and chalks and fashionista teenagers.

How she hated them all. 

"You don't have to do this," her husband said softly from the driver's seat. He looked fairly serene but his hands on the wheel were shaking too. 

She answered with tears running down her face. "Yes, I do." 

"Love..." 

"Mommy, are you okay?"

Millie and her husband turned on their seats. Little Nathan, in his toddler safety seat, was eyeing Millie with concern and yet with an innocence so pure that she wanted to give him kisses on his little head.

She tried on a smile. When she got pregnant she swore she wouldn't ever show weakness in front of her son. She wanted a different life for him, one that didn't involve watching his mother crying all the time, something she knew too well. 

"Mommy's just a little sad, okay?" she said to him. 

"Why?“ Nathan asked. 

"Doesn't matter," Pete intervened. He glanced at his wife reassuringly. "She'll feel better once we get out of here. Right, hon?" 

Millie nodded weakly as she wiped her face with tissue. Pete started the car and drove off. 

It all had begun with the invitation to her high school fifteen-years reunion. The moment she read the envelope, panic took over. How did they knew her address? How did they know her family consisted of exactly three members (the plus 2 at the bottom of the envelope)? Every move she had made since she graduated, up to her choice of university, had the goal of staying as far away as possible from her former classmates. 

And it had been so long ago, fifteen years indeed, that she thought she could handle it, she thought she was stronger than a stupid invitation. Now in her thirties, high school memories seemed long gone. 

But just one therapy session (her idea, not Pete's) proved her wrong. It was very emotional, and even though the therapist told her she would feel better with time, she never did. What's more, her memories came up to the surface and flooded her mind, like a giant monster embracing her; and there wasn't a day she wouldn't remember, no matter how much she tried to block the memories out. Therapy had been like scratching on an old wound until it bled. Or like that one philosopher said, "if thou gaze long into an abyss, the abyss will also gaze into thee".

Even though they weren't near the school anymore, Millie told her husband to close the car's polarized windows, a privilege from being an FBI agent. Afterwards, she, a kindergarten teacher, stared out her window, sighed and shut her eyes after a while. _If I don't see it, it's not happening_. It was a "trick" she taught herself in middle school, when she had to hide from the other girls. They used to call her humiliating names and make jokes her literal mind could not understand. And that was just the girls, sometimes the boys acted even worse.

They would be arriving to the school now, with their families and diplomas under their arms to boast about, all while not feeling a single remorse about the girl they tortured in their teens. Kids will be kids, the world's mantra. 

It was because she was different. "Special", as her parents said. 

On graduation day, she promised herself she wouldn't ever step foot in school grounds again. And if she did, it would be to rub her happiness and success in everyone's faces. As she got older, though, that promise was reduced to never coming back, period. She realized that even if she became successful she wouldn't go back. 

"Can we go to my elementary school?" she told Pete. 

"Sure... where is that?" 

"2.2 miles from my old house. I'll turn on my GPS." 

He saw that she had stopped tearing up and her eyes twinkled with that happiness he had fallen in love with, so he followed her phone's instructions. 

She'd have remembered the address even if she were hit in the head, she thought. It was, effectively, a bit more than two miles away from her home, or, as "normal" people put it, forty minutes apart by foot. She had learned the exact route, in miles and feet, during the first few days of elementary school and was proud to show it to her parents. 

The GPS lady announced that they had reached their destination and Millie, looking up, saw that the school had now three stories instead of two. Nevertheless, it was the same blue building she had attended to for five years. 

"Skoo," her toddler mumbled to her, his little finger pointing at the building. 

"Yes, you will go to this school," Millie said to him and started strapping him to the baby carrier. 

"We never discussed that," Peter said, laconic, as they got off the car. 

"Oh. I apologize, it'd never--"

"I was kidding," he smiled. 

"Ah", she said. "Right."

"I don't mind where Nathan goes. So long as it isn't military." 

The school still had the golden doorbell. How cute, Millie thought as she pressed on it and waited. 

"But you're military..." she continued the conversation. "Sort of." 

"Not by choice, remember..." Peter's eyes wandered dreamily around the school. "I want a different life for the little guy." 

"Yes?" A woman said through the income. Millie got closer to the intercom. 

"I went here," she answered simply. 

"Okay...?" 

Pete was holding back a smile. "I'll handle it," he told his wife, then to the intercom: "We're seeing if our son will go to this school, maybe we can check it out first?" 

"Oh, sure, I'll call the... the Marketing lady. She will show you around."

And she hung up. Millie took the opportunity to bend down towards Nathan. 

"Sweetie," she called him, holding his hands. "Can you look at mommy in the eyes again, please?" 

Nathan was used to these peculiar health examinations, so he obeyed. Millie then asked him to smile, which he did naturally. 

Pete objected: "He's fine, sweetheart. We've been through this. The doctor said--" 

"I'm still a little afraid," Millie said softly. She felt guilty for having done the checkup yet again, but that feeling didn't last long, for someone opened the school's entrance door. 

It was a young, tall woman in glasses and tight blue suit. 

"Welcome to St. Patrick's Elementary," she greeted with a professional smile. "I'm Theresa, head of the B2B Marketing department. Come in." 

As they entered the school grounds, Peter commented:

"B2B, uh? Is that one of those fancy new careers?" 

"Times change, sir. Nowadays I think every school needs a marketing department." 

The young woman's heels made an echo on the ground as Millie observed everything: the summer decorations in all the classes, the school mural she was once a part of, the yard they used to play around at (now broader, with shorter grass and more games), the bell Mrs. Brown used to call for recess, end of recess and everything else she could think of. Mrs. Brown wasn't a fan of technology.

Theresa caught Millie trying to fit in one of the swings. She had a puzzled face on.

"I still fit," Millie announced happily, looking at her husband, and started swinging back and forth. 

The feeling of the summer breeze caressing her face was incredible to her. As she swung back and forth, elementary school memories swept into her mind. The laughter, the childhood games, the English lessons she loved so much. 

"Honey..." Her husband called, but Nathan had already ran to her. He climbed on the next swing and started having fun. "Nathan!" Pete shouted. 

"C'mon, Pete, try these!" Millie shouted, overjoyed, for there was still a free seat.

"Uh..."

"Is something wrong?" she asked, worried she might have, once again, violated a social rule. She lowered the speed of her swing. 

"Yes, uh..." Pete stuttered. "Adults are not..." 

He was saved by the young woman, Theresa, who said: "Adults can't use the games, Mrs. They might break." 

Millie stopped swinging, surprised and disappointed. "Oh. My apologies," she said and got off. "I suggest you put a sign saying that," she suggested. 

She started negotiating with her son that it was enough time in the swing. Theresa shot a confused glance at Pete. 

"We're not dangerous," he clarified calmly. "My wife is just a little different."

"Different how?" Theresa inquired.

"Does it matter?" Pete said. 

Millie had come back with Nathan in her arms. The marketing lady changed her look into a kind one and asked how old the boy was.

"Three," the mother answered proudly and put him down. "Don't let go of my hand, okay?" she told Nathan, who put his tiny hand in hers. 

They resumed their walking.

"He already reads," Pete said. 

"Impressive!" Theresa said and looked at the child. "Do you read a lot, Nathan?" 

He nodded with enthusiasm. "The Happy Prince. And Hawy Potter." 

"Aw that's so cute," the assistant said. 

They have arrived at what used to be Millie's fourth grade classed, now equipped with a flat-screen TV and a Blu-ray player. 

Millie walked through it, her heart pounding. When she got to her seat, she found it hard to believe that she had once been that small. She sat down on it. 

"You went to this school, Mrs.?" Theresa asked her.

Millie smiled fully. "Yes. Best years of my life." 

While Pete carried Nathan in his arms, Millie stared at the new textures of the children desk, her fingers tracing it and her pupils bigger.

That went out for minutes, until she looked up at Theresa. 

"Is Mrs. Brown still alive?" Millie asked.

The other woman pursed her lips. "No, sorry. She passed away two years ago. Our oldest teacher in the history of the school."

"She was my favorite," Millie said. 

She sat up just as Nathan ran up to her arms. She lifted him up and he quickly hugged her mother by the neck. 

"Are you convinced, honey?" Pete asked. 

Millie looked at him calmly. She had gone there to feel the endearing nostalgia of her childhood and forget the hell from her teen years, but now Pete seemed to be serious about Nathan's future school. 

"I want to visit the pool," she said, feeling sorry right away for it. She kept reminding herself to be empathetic to other people, to try to figure out what they were thinking. So she thought that it probably gave her husband great joy to be planning their son's future. "I'm sure Nathan will love it too," Millie added as she brushed her son's hair. "Do you have other appointments, miss Head of Marketing?" 

Pete and Theresa contained their laughter.

"Did I insult you, miss?" asked a confused Millie. 

"No, not at all, honey," Pete intervened, and the Marketing lady nodded along. "It was just an unusual way to call her." 

"Oh. Okay then," said a happy Millie. "Can we go to the pool now?" 

"Sure, there's still time," said Theresa, and they moved forward. 

  
Nathan went ecstatic as soon as he saw the school's pool, which was big enough to fit a large group of elementary students. On the side wall there was a sign indicating it was forbidden to dive. 

While the toddler ran around the pool, Millie got suddenly assaulted by a great, powerful, joyful memory. Her heart warmed up thinking about it. For most people, a memory like hers would be something stupid and irrelevant, but not for Millie, not at all. 

"I have a message engraved in these grounds," she told her husband. 

"Engraved?" Pete repeated, suddenly mesmerized at her wife's usually wide vocabulary. "Where, hun?" 

"Right there," Millie pointed to a place in the pool's edge, near the upper right corner. "Nathan, would you please stop running for a minute? Mommy has to show daddy something." 

"Sometin?" Nathan repeated. 

"Yes, I'll tell you when you're older." 

The child looked disappointed, but obeyed either way. He went into one of the empty dressing rooms. 

"Alright, what was the message?" Pete asked Millie as she walked to the spot. He followed her. 

" _Is_ ," Millie said. "I'm sure it's still there, I carved it with a stone."

"Must have been an important message, then". 

Millie looked down at the ground, searching for it. "It was very important for a nine year old," she said. 

She stepped back and found it, just as she had left it all those years ago. Smiling, she got on her knees and invited her husband to do the same. The message read:

 _Backstreet Boys forever_  
[And the figure of a heart]

"I didn't know you were that big of a fan", Pete commented.

She turned to the words again, glowing with happiness. "I was the biggest, back then. I had all their albums, posters, I brought pictures of them to school... Miss Brown once busted me with my Walkman in class listening to them, she was very disappointed..." While she talked, Pete smiled tenderly. He liked it when Millie got dreamy about something. "But none of my classmates bothered me for it, I even made some other girls fans too. It was a different time." 

"It was, indeed... Oh, wow, are we so old already?"

"Yes", Millie smiled. "But I like being this age".

"So you wrote this when no one was looking?" 

"Yes, on grade nine. I wanted it to last forever." 

"And it did. You're so adorable, Millie." 

Millie blushed intensely and hugged him. Pete hugged her back, knowing the gesture wasn't common in her. 

She broke apart quickly, however, and touched her chin in deep thought. 

"What is it?" Pete asked her, but she didn't hear. 

Instead, she ran towards the girls dressing room and called for Peter. He seemed confused as he ran along. 

"I need your little blade," Millie told him. She was in front of one of the wooden doors. 

"Oh my God, what are you planning?" Pete said, half-joking.

She turned to him with a bold look. "I'm gonna leave another message".

"A vandal! What have you done with my dear Millie?" Pete joked again, and added a chuckle so she'd knew he wasn't serious.

He gave her the blade and she pressed it against one of the doors. The writing was done slowly and carefully, so Pete had to be very patient. He couldn't see the letters because Millie was covering them with her body. 

When she was finished, she stepped back and admired her work with pride. Pete gazed at her for a moment, then read the message. 

_if your heart is getting colder_  
 _you know I will always be your soldier_  
[another heart] 

"That rings a bell..." Pete tried to remember.

"You can do it, Pete!" Millie encouraged him, on the verge of giggles.

He read the message a couple of more times, then raised his index finger.

"It's the Backstreet Boys again!" he guessed.

"Yes!" she exclaimed. "But this time it's their newest album". 

"Oh, the one I've heard only a zillion times".

"Yes. This is the last song, it's called Soldier." 

"Right. But why did you write the lyrics here?" 

Millie looked at her creation again before answering. 

"I want them to comfort a child if they're suffering. There's so much more bullying and other problems these days... Maybe they'll read this and feel better". 

Pete had a thought that he hoped would take his wife's mind off the oldest boyband alive. 

"I'm kind of like your soldier, Millie." 

"Because you're kind of military?" Millie said. 

"Yes, but also because of these lyrics. Didn't they say, and I'm only guessing because I heard them a thousand times at home, _wanna be there just in time, wanna be your shining knight, protect you like a soldier_?" 

Millie gazed at Pete right in the eyes and smiled, something else she rarely did.

" _I wanna be the first in line, be the one to save your life, all I wanna do is hold you_ ," she continued with the lyrics, this time singing them. 

He surprised her by taking her into her arms and kissing her. It took her a few seconds to process what had led Pete to do that, but afterwards she responded by kissing him back. So much they were into each other that they did not seem to care they were in an elementary school. 

When they were done, they found little Nathan staring at them. 

"Oh my God, we traumatized our son," Pete said ironically and picked him up.

By his slight smirk, Millie knew he was, again, joking. Then she came closer to Nathan and took his face tenderly between her hands. 

"You will be alright, right, little one?" she said. 

"Of course he will, love," Pete said.

"What about me?" Millie said, and her husband smiled. "Will I be alright?" 

"Time heals everything, doesn't it?" he said. Then he put his son's and wife's hands together. "And us three have each other anyway." 

  
**THE END**

**Author's Note:**

> I was dead set on not actually mentioning throughout the story that Millie is on the spectrum. It just seemed like the wrong thing to do in this situation. So I left hints and cues, hopefully enough of them to let the reader figure it out by themselves and not so many that it sounds stigmatizing. 
> 
> Playlist is available on [Spotify](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/06U1vJKogReM4SKqunDkrx?si=k7yZ1pv3RDyPQMThpIsw9g). Message me to get it on other platforms.


End file.
